
Class J^ Jl5 5- 5 / 

Book .^253:^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrn 



M U G E N 



By, 

Fanny "Runnells Toole 

MUGEN A Book of Verse 
$1.00 

THREE SONGS OF LOVE 

Set to Music 40 Genu. 

A BANK OF VIOLETS 
Verses $1.00. 



Niles Publishing Company 
Bridgeport, Connecticut 



MVQEK 

A Book of Verse 

BY 

Fanny Runnells Poole 




Bridgeport, Connecticut ; 
NILES PUBLISHING COMPANY 



Clinton, New York: 

GEORGE WILLIAM BROWNING 

1907 






Copyrighted 1907 by Fanny l^unnells Poole 



Iwii COD»es Hetfewea 

AUG 15 )^08 

•-^ GO Ft B. __ 



Printed October, 1907 

George William Browning 

Clinton, New York 



r 



M U G E N 



3fF. w. m. 



Thou my Belov*d, whose ear 
Was tuned to all sweet harmonies of thought, 
O nevermore on earth shall I find aught 
So beautiful as thy courageous heart ! 
And though we rove no more in field and brake, 
The circling years bring nearer those they part — 
This were my tendVest hope, belief most dear, 
Save one, oh, jubilant, that I may wake 
Some melody which thy pure soul may hear ! 

May, 1907 




KAKEMONO 
To F. M. R. 

^'A branch of the season's blossom " 

Adorns my garden door, 
But thou, for whom this festive bloom, 

Returnest never more. 
Still the horn shall brim with nectar 

Where April violets bide, 
Where * Mayflowers ' sought by loving thought 

May cheer the garden-side ; 



Where the dewy June azalea 
Will greet her sister rose, 
The perfect round of the laurel bound 

From July's flushed repose ; 
Where gipsy columbine will leave 
Her tuft on the gray ledge- wall. 
Oh, the flowers know who 
loved them so. 
They seem to wait thy 





O the heart, 

the heart hath 
seasons, 
The heart, memorial flowers. 
And memory wells like 
vesper bells 
To thrill the dreaming hours ! 
The fancies we have cherished. 

The affections' myriad springs. 
Reach out betimes in rippling rhymes 
To hearts who love such things. 



Renewed beside these fountains, 

What flowers of Hope there be ! 
While faces rise with those glad eyes, 

O Mother dear, of thee! 
Genius of all my garden. 

As in the old sweet days, 
Y These songs are thine to share 
^^ each line 

1^ With lesser gods and fays! 

Jlpril25, 1906. 




^ueen Louise of Prussia \ \ 



QUEEN LOUISE OF PRUSSIA 

march 10, 1776— July 19, 1810 

jP^ER life with beauty, faith and love replete, 
^1— ^C Through tenderness and trust her royal way 

And yet not wholly free of sorrow's sway, 
Which made her to the suffering charitably sweet. 
To glad the eye, to ease the weary feet, 

To be her generous world's protecting ray, 

Nobly her spirit's call did she obey. 
What need of crown such queenship to complete ! 

And when from peace idyllic of her life. 
Beside her Lover-King she held her place, 

How brave her part when fell the nation's strife ! 

How richly with her Loved she wore the queen ! 
Sharing with him her own imperishable grace, 

Think you that even death could intervene ? 



12 To Live is To Hope 

TO LIVE IS TO HOPE 

CO live is to hope, not with purposeless strife, 
But with fervour and wisdom to gain ; 
Whole-hearted to seek for the beauty of life, 
Its truth and its light to attain. 

The bleat of a lamb on the hillside brown 
Thrills us with hope that spring is near ; 

The call of a bird from a wind-swept down 
Wakens a sweet, collected cheer ; 

Each laugh of a child means a vanquished gloom ; 

In violets laughs the quickened sod ; 
Oh, a smile of love is the apple bloom, — 

All, all are a message from God ! 

Oh, to hope — *tis the dawn of all glad things ! 

Tis only with Hope we begin to live, 
While the yearning within our being sings 

To deserve the noblest that life can give ! 



To Live is To Hope 13 



To aspire as a bird on fearless wing 
To infinite gardens beyond our own, 

Where service a paean of joy may bring 
To souls that a narrowing toil have known. 

To live is to hope, not with purposeless strife. 
But with fervour and wisdom to gain ; 

Whole-hearted to seek for the beauty of life. 
Its truth and its light to attain. 



1 4 Midarezaki 



MIDAREZAKI 

ic^HE Spring is in the air, 
^^^ So lightly poised above the sleeping valleys ! 
Her garments' gleam the young green faintly shadows, 
But fresh the meadows. 

And loosed the stream where in and out she sallies. 

The Spring is in the air, 

Her magical sweet presence — how it thrills us ! 
From yonder wood the robin's welcome gushes. 
And the brook rushes. 

And oh, the same wild freedom — how it fills us ! 

The Spring is in the air ! 

Waken the rosy willows, warm and tender. 
Beckon the bursting maples from the hollow, 
And glad we follow 

Where prescient orchards wait, a-dream of splendour. 

The Spring is in the air ! 

This life that in our being starts and dances — 
This heart so one with Nature's in its beating, 
Her joy repeating. 

Makes of the fleeting days its fair romances 



77?^ Ascent of Mount Lafayette 15 

THE ASCENT OF MOUNT LAFAYETTE 

( Chief of the Franconias ) 
To M. T. R. 

©HE mountains loose their locks from misty brows, 
And comb them by the lambent bars of gold 
Escaping through successive slanted boughs. 
Swarth tresses are breeze-wafted from the face 
Of one unrivalled, with the wondrous eyes — 
Those searching eyes deep in his granite face, 
Those eyes unmelting yet 'mid sun and storm 
Of centuries, or triumphing in peace, 
Or steadfast above strife and tribal wars. 

The cool recesses 'neath these clasping trees 
Have sheltered many a redman. Shielding rocks 
Have trembled to the feet of lordly beast, 
Ere yet the mightier tread of slow-paced Time 
Left imprint in the lessons of the ledge. 
In sweet uncertainty we climb the steeps, 
Our pathway unimpressed by frequent feet, 
Tingeing the way with romance of a doubt 
If we attain the half-illusive height. 



16 The Ascent of Mount Lafayette 

Ne'er did the seer so yearn for promised land 
As we for such a paradise withheld. 
But soon the favouring breezes break apart 
The long defile of living green, wherethrough 
Shimmers the sunlit affluence of plains, 
Rivers and fragmentary lakes and meads. 
And every momentary hcav'n succeeds 
In making earth less arduous, as we seek 
To gain its goal. 

The music of a fount 
Falls in resistless coobess o'er the way ; 
Our hope renewed by draught miraculous, 
We wander on, each step one nearer heaven. 
Doth it not picture clear the path of life 
To world-worn pilgrims, and the blest reward ? 
Surely if aught on earth foreshadow heaven, 
Behold it, while on every side, — the skies. 
The vales, the dusky way we trod are new, 
Re-glorified to our unbounded sight — 
Our sight, so long expectant, satisfied ! 



Where the Kennebunk Meets the Sea 1 7 



WHERE THE KENNEBUNK MEETS 
THE SEA 

'T jAST leagues of shining bay leaves, 
,ft^ And leagues of silvVy firs, — 
Here the white wave churns. 
And the flashing terns 

Are Neptune's messengers, 
As they dip and soar 
Off the windy shore. 

Or speed toward the golden West. 

Oh, here to rest. 

On a knoll's soft breast, 

Is Paradise for me ! — 
Ju^ to dream above. 
With one I love. 

Where the Kennebunk meets the Sea ! 
August 15, 1906. 



18 Adagio e Piano 

ADAGIO E PIANO 

( At Kennebunkport, Maine ) 

CHE lyrical soft measures of the river 
Chime in our blood. As in a dream we heed 
The far-heard breathing of the mighty sea. 
Let others wrestle with a roaring surf, 
Or wait the dictates of a rising wind 
To follow aimlessly the changing tides. 
For us, this mellow music sweetly tuned 
To some harmonious and restful knoll. 
Whereon the rustling balm-of-Gileads 
And cool, susurring birches give repose. 

What joy to leave, a space, the growing strife 
For high ideals, the reaching after Good, 
Content with Good we have ; to lay aside 
This conflict upon conflict some call Life ! 
Betimes, who would not quit the hot endeavour 
To list great Nature's lessons unto man ? 
To mark the slow, the patient season's march, 
The steady pulse of ocean calm and strong. 
The muffled waves' advancing and retreat ? 



Adagio e Piano I9 

There comes not to our soul the stress of toil, 
Nor yet the tumult of the inner wars ; 
But fellow with the rich unfolding Day, 
Encalmed as 'twere by music of the spheres, 
We feel the truth the Seer of Rydal knew. 
Yea, borne by cradle songs of mother Earth, 
Somewhere between the ocean and the river, 
" Soft is the music that would charm for ever. '* 



20 To Avis, with Apple Blossoms 

TO AVIS, WITH APPLE BLOSSOMS 

rf«^^^^ ^^ footlights dance in a blinding 
Vlx glimmer, 

And scenic curtains sway ; 
Where the smile of the mock court-dame is dinuner 

Than the moon's face by day ; 
But where your soul with its deep vibration 

Stayeth the listless throng. 
And wealth of praises and admiration 

Waiteth the queen of song. 

Are you happy, maiden Avis ? 

When after the opera you recline 

Among your favourite birds, 
And with languid grace you half divine 

The prince's flattering words ; 
*Mid the flash of wit, the flaming opal 

Of bubbling warm Lafite, 
Do you remember the orchard vocal, 

The June-grass waving sweet ? 

You were happy, maiden Avis. 



To Avis, with Apple Blossoms 21 

A-swing on boughs of apple or cherry, 

With bird-notes in your throat 
Charming the birds to chime in the merry 

Wonder of life afloat. 
You may not recall the shy advances 

Of him who drove the kine, 
Who dares a question, will speaking glances 

Deign him their ans'ring shine ? — 
Are you happy, maiden Avis ? 

One picture he treasures Time never changes. 

Of peaceful, loitering cows. 
And a faery maiden whose clear song ranges 

From smiling apple-boughs. 
He would send you this appropriate sweetness 

Plucked from a storied tree ; 
May you, for the storehouse of life's completeness 

Hold but the sweet in fee. 

The brave should be happy, Avis. 



22 The Bond 



THE BOND 

SULL wearily I urged my way 
Through the gay thoroughfare and busy, 
Where surged the crowd, serene or dizzy 
With spring's delight, — the time was May. 
Mid-Age with thoughtful mien, and form 
Erect with pride, achievement, glory. 
Fair Youth whose bearing told the story 
Of bright ambitions brave and warm. 

As on they passed, to me spoke one 

As she my load of grief would borrow ; 

Such is the sacred bond of sorrow ; 
My spirit lightened and o*er-run 
Its goal. One sympathetic heart 

Had banished pain, despair and longing ; 

Into my soul glad hopes came thronging. 
And courage for life's nobler part. 



The Bed-Time Story 23 



THE BED-TIME STORY 
(P. F. P.) 

^J^HEN little brother goes to bed, 
VAx His face is wondrous merry, 
His eyes are like the violets, 
His lips are like the cherry. 

First, little brother brings his books, 
His choice and well-thumbed treasures. 

Then climbs into his mother's lap — 
His greatest of all pleasures. 

Sometimes she tells of Silverhair, 

Puss-in-Boots, Cinderella ; 
One night he said, " They are too long, 

I'm such a sleepy fella. 

But tell me 'bout a little boy. 
An' not too good. You see, 

I like to hear sometimes of boys — 
Real boys, no gooder 'n me." 



24 The Bed-Time Story 

" I know a boy who climbed the spout, 

Once on a time," said mother, 
" And after hunting all about — 
(" That's me," chirped little brother,) 

" I found him, with the cat, asleep 
Upon the roof," said mother, 
" Near my room window — precious heap ! " 
(" That's me," beams little brother.) 



Thanksgiving 25 



THANKSGIVING 

VcTnHERE was a time when I did ponder long 
^^^ Upon the day men set apart for praise 
And thankfulness. I said, by right belong 

The flush and fragrance of the summer days,— 
Their glad arraying and the joyful song 
Of bird and brook, to thee, O Day, belong ! 

My soul looks through the silence and is dumb. 

Can aught more eloquent ? — these quiet fields 
Bespeak the glory past and yet to come ! 

Her life, but not the germ of life. Earth yields. 
Ye mortals, with Thanksgiving go and come. 
But for Earth's gratitude all speech were dumb ! 



26 Confessions 



CONFESSIONS 
^T%E women seek to live our brighter selves 
vt/ Encircled in the sunlight of our days ; 
Not in excess of pleasure — fortune's elves, 

Pursuing round on round our dazzling ways, 
But keeping in the soul joy's steadfast rays, 
Shining through swift intensities of power, 
Yet waning if it best befit the hour. 

For such intuitive chemics we are thought 
Inconstant, coruscating, easily bought 
From out the ample coinage of the heart ; 
True, we can smile at hate's inflicted dart. 
Acquaint with sorrow, we can play at mirth, 
Or artifice, if need be, to make earth 
Less troublous to our fellow-travelers, — 
( Let Grief be pardoned this gay masque of hers ! ) 

But though eternal queenship we might gain, 

Of kingdom richer than star-worlds above. 
We could not pleasure in another's pain, 

And when we love — we love ! 



Christmas 27 

CHRISTMAS 

XNTO our chill hearts gleam the light 
and warmth about Him, 
Our little Babe. 
Oh, what would our poor lives avail 

if we should doubt Him ; 
Better the manger with Christ than the 
inn without Him, 
Our King ! 

Glows in Mary's eyes the love of a 
world of mothers. 
Their little Babe. 
Greatest Hope of the growing world of 

men, my brothers ; 
Him we can truly serve all time by 
serving others. 
Our King ! 



28 Christmas 

Rest m our heart of hearts, O pure 
incarnate wonder, 
Our little Babe ! 
Be Thy coming sure to smite the cords 

of sin asunder ; 
Thy heaven of love be over us, as God's 
world is under. 
Our King! 



The Hermit Thrush 29 



THE HERMIT THRUSH 

GOME, friend, let us go forth amid the fields ! 
Gently insists the hesitating rain, 
But never to a sullen temper yields ; 

Only a setded grief, an hallowed pain 
Imbues the day. A dirge for the lost sun 

The cricket sings. And hark ! there falls a strain 
From yonder wood, — a fearless, fervent one, 
The hermit thrush is thrilling hill and plain. 

Ah, more than mortal these uplifting notes, 

In swift arpeggio of faery cheer, 
Following each other as from diff'rent throats, 

While but one throat pours forth the paean clear. 
Who says the Day is spiritless and sad ? 

She holdeth her own court of minstrelsy, 
While Nature's burdened heart again is glad 

And finds interpreter, sweet Bird, in thee ! 



30 The Music of the Hermit Thrush 

THE MUSIC OF THE HERMIT THRUSH 

now oft in leafy days the echoing wood 
Wakes to the thrush's rapture ! To thy mood 
Responds he in meet music. Dost thou bear 
The mourner's heart ? around thee floats the air 
That wraps the vanished presence ; blest thy lot. 
Art toiling in the furrows ? then forgot 
The fierce noontide, the burden and the fretting, 

If haply thou be letting 
Thy soul forth to the minstrel, scarce aware 
That music's voice is vanquisher of care. 

Art thou a lover, hoarding in thy heart 
Love's treasure unattained and set apart ? 
Nearer, thy chief desire ; an ardent tone 
Pleads thine unspoken hope, ere voiceless, lone, 
Reigns Night amid her vast and solemn fields. 
Now sweet content unto oblivion yields. 
Now thy late fevered spirit calm reposes. 

To melody uncloses 
The sad heart of the world. To youth or age, 
Unlearned or sage, song's heavenly heritage. 



\ 



The Music of the Hermit Thrush 3 1 

Whose apt discernment named the Hermit Thrush ? 

Aloft he lives, atop the brier and brush ; 

And in pure ecstasy repeateth long 

His message, poet of a single song. 

Ay, of a line. But never isolate 

From human need, nor yet beyond toil's gate, 

While at thought's opening paradise he singeth ! 

Joy not of earth he bringeth, — 
Kin melodist to that undying youth 
Who proved that Truth is beauty, beauty, truth. 



32 Withholden 

WITHHOLDEN 

i^^xHE fairest boon the heart may crave, 
^^^ Withheld, may yet become a shrine ; 
Life's largess is both just and brave, 

Fond hopes with memory intertwine, 
But oh, the kiss you never gave 

Hath made my life divine ! 

How often doth my heart replace 

Your last farewell, — my longing heart 

Grown bolder at the signless space 
That yawned to rend us two apart ! 

I see the Sun-god's ebbing race, 
I mark the careless art 

Of honeysuckle fondly twined 

About the porch ; its breath I feel. 
Could no achievement of my mind, 

With voice or pen, for human weal, — 
Could no high service to mankind 

My quiet days reveal? 



Withholden 33 

What then could make me worthy this — 
Though once I blushed to crave the gift — 

Sublime pure joyance of your kiss ? 

Oh, the Dread Silence comes too swift, 

The while, despairingly, I miss 
The lute-song for the rift ! 

O God, Thy child forgiven by Thee 
Would be ! Be Thy work not amiss. 

Fulfill that highest good, to be 
A solace for withholden bliss, 

Till heav'n itself shall hold for me 
That earth-refused kiss. 



34 Remembering N. P. Willis' Poems 



REMEMBERING N. P. WILLIS' POEMS 

HONG nights of winter, ye smile back to me, 
Adown the vistas of the vanished years ; 
Still memory tender, beauteous, endears 
A voice — : *twas music's benedicite, — 
Faces that gleamed beneath the home roof-tree ; 
Again the circle at the hearth it cheers. 
For that the Angel with the Book appears, 
And both are tuned to golden poesy. 

My mother's voice, to rapt unfolding minds, 
Chanted thy melodies full oft at eves. 
Poet, whose lofty musing doth enhance 
The charm thou giv'st to simple circumstance ; 
While storied record, loved of Sacred Leaves, 
In thee interpreter immortal finds. 



'*E'en in Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires" 35 

"E'EN IN OUR ASHES LIVE THEIR 
WONTED FIRES" 

^^^HE old priest led me through the silent nave, 
^^^ Past the high altar, near the warm-hued panes ; 
Pausing a moment at the sculptured shrine 
Of martyred saint, he made obeisance due. 
The while I heeded how the tempered sun 
Mellowed the carven gloom of chorus-stalls. 
And graced with hallowed bloom the frescoed walls 
Picturing the blessed Mary and our Lord. 
Thereafter swung a door mysterious, 

And straight I found me in the low-arched crypt. 
The Padre lit a torch whose light revealed 
In ghastly rows, strange shapes and grewsome skulls, 
Gaunt arms and moldering frames. A shudd'ring fear 
Knocked at my heart and would have entered there ; 
But from a concave of this charnel dread. 
There stole a scent of violets and wild thyme. 
And strains of music rose and fell anon. 

Which bade me pause, expectant, wondVingly. 



36 ''E'en in Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires" 

" Good father," then I spake, ** is it some harp 

Makes melody this hour ? " "Perchance,** quoth he ; 

** Here lie the bones of many a poet-bard. 

Know you that this most sacred edifice 

Did flourish in the thirteenth century, 

And all around were Lanquedoc and Provence ! '* 

I, too, slow-wending to the outward air — 

I marveled not those soft recurrent notes 

Should rise from crumbling dust once tuned to Love. 



A Song to Charon 37 



A SONG TO CHARON 

i¥^EIRD are the pines and the tossing sea ; 
vXx Songs of earth woo my heart no more ; 
Now, as the wide heavens call to me, 

Qyick, ere the charmed time be o'er. 
Place in my hand good Charon's fee ! 

Lighten the cloud-lipped stream of death, 
Knight of the magic-waking oar, 
Grant we may dip to that fair shore 

Where oft my lost Love wandereth. 

Charon, amid thy crew, I hear, 
Silence hath ever been, and sleep ; 

But should my Love the shore draw near, 
My soul, 'mid darkmost Styx, would leap ! 

So haste, friend Charon, have no fear 
If I awake in the joy thereof. 

Or ever I clasp with hungry cheer 
The one I love at the moorage there. 
Or ever together forth we fare 
Unto the Land of Immortal Love ! 



38 To Maude Adams as " Lady Babbie " 



TO MAUDE ADAMS AS "LADY BABBIE" 

In " The Little Minister" 

QROMPTINGS from Portia underlie 
Thy tactful word and sage reply. 
So varied are thy native powers 
And well-adapted, thought of ours 
Must seek in vain to name thy charms. 
We strew thee histrionic palms. 
Changeful in all but love art thou, blithe Maid, 
Follow thy brightest star, for earth-lights fade. 
'December, 1899. 



J 



Our Home 39 



OUR HOME 

(Written for the Reunion of Tilton Seminary, February 
29. 1892, at Boston.) 

Q LEDGE us a cup of beaten gold 
Flecked with a thousand jeweled gleams, 
Filled from Castalian springs of old 
By some god of elusive dreams ! 
Stay ! give us but the nectar quaffed 
From hearts of our New Hampshire trees, 
Drawn by the virgin Spring — a draught 
That we may sip, and sit at ease. 

Spread us a cloth of Tyrian hue. 
Set us a dais of carven pearl. 
Urns of pomegranates place in view, 
But wait ! before our eyes unfurl 
Folds of apple and cherry blooms. 
And violets from New Hampshire hills. 
We need no aid of sculptured glooms, 
A native joy our bosom fills ! 



40 Our Home 

For we would sing the praise of Home 
In Nature's fairest haunts enshrined ; 
Though children wide apart we roam, 
Our home is first in heart and mind. 
The home of science, there we learned 
Lore of the stars, the earth, the seas ; 
The beauties of the arts discerned, 
With music's voice expressing these ; 

The home of honour, faith and truth. 
O firm high souls, who moulded well 
The rough but plastic clay of youth. 
You we salute ! all you who dwell 
Far-sundered, — teachers, scholars, friends! 
And they who need nor sun nor chart, — 
A blessed memory commends 
To each of these, some loving heart. 



79 John Bamster Tabb 41 



TO JOHN BANISTER TABB 

^f Chat wondrous alchemy is thine, 

vAx Bard of the wayside ? Bird and flower. 

Song and silence, shadow and shine 

Mete thee time by the golden hour. 
From the alembic of thy mind, 
Wisdom and love uplift mankind. 

Thine, not strife of a wingless soul 

Foiled by some evil of the earth. 
Jewel-worker, shaping the whole 

Crown of death as the new life's birth. 
Brother, true optimist in song, 
Souls-to-be shall thy praise prolong I 



42 On an Immortal Song 



ON AN IMMORTAL SONG 

^|%£ would salute each day 

\\J As one great gift from wisdom of our God ; . , 

Then bravely face our work or play ^| 

Humbly and proudly. This glad sod 

Angels and gods aforetime trod ; 

Shall we ennoble life as they, 

Or in vain dreaming pass the hours away ? 

Vast are the issues of the common day, 

And fraught with deathless music are the tones. 

Perchance, to which this old world moves along ! 

Oh, the whole world a nobler gladness owns 

For that our Newman writ his glorious song. 

Becalmed amid the Bonifacian strait. 

One immemorial week : what there befell, 

When Inspiration thus defeated Fate, 

T would best befit th* angelic choir to tell ! 



On an Immortal Song 43 

Led by the Voice as by the Vision led, 
To thine appeal, O Song, upon the pulsate air, 
We have entrusted precious moments of our dead, 
Ere yet the grave inclosed what seemed so fair ! 
Only the presence of our Loved to share 
When " with the morn those angel faces smile." 

Thine is the clear voice speaking through the night ; 
And when, one day, released from care and guile, 
On us shall dawn the one supreme delight, 
May we, earth-freed, 

From buoyant thankfulness, and our late need, 
Still breathe this hallowed prayer : " * Lead, kindty 
Light!* 
For ever lead ! ** 



VRANSLA TIONS 



After Petrarch 47 



AFTER PETRARCH 

From the French of Jose- Maria de Heredia 
1842 - 1905 

HEAVING the church, my beauteous dreams 
unfold : 
Your noble hands as almoner appear, 
And in the shaded porch your eyes beam clear 
Upon the poor like heaven s uncounted gold. 

1 could not but salute you, yet not bold 
My glance, which humbly bade you not to fear ; 
Ah me, you drew your mantle with less cheer, 
And left me to the rayless world and cold I 

But Love who governs the most rebel heart 
Would not allow sweet mercy to depart, 
Or that the source of pity cease to be ; 

You dropt the veil so slowly to my view. 
Your eyelashes' dear trembling I did see 
Like foliage dark where star-rays fiker through. 



48 The Fluti 



THE FLUTE 

From the French of Jose-Maria de Heredia 

dc\^ eve. A flight of pigeons fans the sky ; 

^^^ But naught to cool the fire of love is found 
So potent, as upon the lip the sound 
Of pipe attuned to rills that ripple by. 

Outstretched beneath the plane-tree as we lie, 
Soft is the grass. The goat may roam around, 
Deaf to the bleating kid, v^ith many a bound 
May climb the steeps and clip the shrubs on high. 

Belov'd, seven hemlock stalks compose my flute. 
Of different lengths, wax-joined, 'tis made to suit 
My every mood, to laugh, or weep, or sing. 

G>me ! I will teach thee what Silenus saith, 
And all thy sighs of love, fast vanishing. 
Shall lose themselves amid harmonious breath I 



The Siesta 49 



THE SIESTA 

From the French of Jose-Maria de Heredia 

j^nHERE is no sound of cricket or marauding bee, 
^^^ All bfe, by heat oppressed, sleeps in the solitude. 
Where, through the rifted leaves, shimmers a light 

subdued 
Down to the em'rald velvet moss that cradles me. 

Splendid Mid-Day doth pierce the darksome canopy. 
While, o*er my half-shut eyes with budding sleep 

imbued, 
Of myriad furtive gleams he forms a net rose-hued. 
And throws its tempting shade athwart a grassy sea. 

Hush ! toward the flaming gauze of blended rays 
Float the frail butterflies, like radiant fays. 
Drunken with subtle saps and dazzling beams. 

And now my trembling fingers seize each thread. 
For, in the wondrous web imprisoned. 
Hunting for harmonies, I find my dreams. 



50 The Conch 



THE CONCH 

From the French of Jose-Maria de Heredia 

HOW many winters, through what oceans coU, — 
Ah, who may know, thou frail and pearly 
shell I — 
Have surge and tide in their recurring swell 
Rolled thee amid their caverns green and old ? 

Today, beneath the sky, on sands of gold, 
Would'st make sweet rest-place, far from wave to dwell ? 
Vain is thy hope. A long despairing knell — 
Ever the Sea's deep voice — thy form shall hold. 

My soul is grown to a sonorous prison ; 
And as within thy coils have mournful risen 
The plaintive echoes of the olden woe. 

So in this inmost heart o'erful of Her, 
Dull storm, insensible, grief's remembrancer. 
Present and yet remote, I dimly know. 



On the Ltvre des Amours 51 



ON THE LIVRE DES AMOURS 
OF PIERRE DE RONSARD 

From the French of Jose-Maria de Heredia 

JJ^nHE gardens of Bourgueil they are Love's own, 
^^^ More than one lover's name adorns their trees. 
In high-arched Louvre more than one heart at ease 
The thrilling tumult of a smile hath known. 

What matters it — their joy, their grief? alone 
' Neath four oak boards they lie. None disagrees 
With their last claim, under the verdant leas, 
To deep oblivion of sepulchral stone. 

Marie, Helene, Cassandra proud, — all dead ! 
Your beauteous frames in senseless dust had fled, — 
Morrows come not to lily or the rose — 

Had Ronsard, golden Loire or Seine above, 

Not wreathed you garlands e'en the present knows, — 

Laurel of Fame with myrtle crown of Love ! 



52 A Japanese Bouquet 

A JAPANESE BOUQUET 

( Arranged in a Vase of English Verse from Various 
Prose Versions.) 

All our dreams are blown adrift as flowers 
•** before a fan, 

Jill our hearts are haunted in the heart 
of old fapan. 

— Alfred Noyes. 

CHE flower must fade though it have 
sweetest scent ; 
Naught in this world is sure or 

permanent ; 
The lofty mountains which of late 

I crossed. 
Shadows are they, to all but memory 

lost. 
Vanished my joy and pain. 
The dreams alone remain. 

— Kohodaishi {Ninth Century^.) 

i|%HOSE song doth awake from the silvery brake ? 
VAx Ask the lorn nightingale who doth mistake 
The sweet blown snowflakes for the bursting plum. 

O have no fear, impatient Dear, 
Sing on, the laggard Spring will surely come ! 

— Soaei {Ninth Century.) 



A Japanese Bouquet 53 



fS) 



HAT is called poetry arises from the heart ; 
Man gives to words the feelings of himself a part. 

Feelings diverse, or manifold, 

Doth poetry unfold. 

— Tsurayuki- 



a 



S the Samurai among men are kings. 
So the cherry is chief of flowering things. 
On the banks at Mukojima 
How brave its blossomings ! 



© 



Y the shimmer of pale moonl 

How may I come 

To the flowers o' the plum ? 
Their fragrance will guide me aright. 



O SWEET, the pillow of my hand is wet. 
And yet 
It is not autumn weather ; 
How many a tear for a dream so dear. 
Instead of us together I 



® 



HOSE voice so blithely rings ? 
Is it the moon that sings ? 

*Tis you, 

Cuckoo ! 



54 A Japanese Bouquet 

/^ACH dream of night a heavenly courier seems, 
^^ Since that one night thou cam'stto me in dreams. 
No more in tears I watch the daybeam shine, 
Knowing that in the world of sleep thou'rt mine. 

— Komachi {Ninth Century.) 

^^RUE, i am old, but not ungraciously 
^^Would pine against Time's unrelenting power ; 
Had Time not borne me on unceasingly, 

I had not reached the dawn of this glad hour. 

— Toshiyul^i. 

EROM heights of my palace gazing. 
My people's welfare appraising, 
I watch the tribute soft clouds are raising. 
It is the daily incense which heav'nward doth aspire : 
Lo ! everywhere the ketde is steaming on the fire. 

— The Mikado, Nintoku Tenno ( Third Century.) 

OPPOSITION 

CHE crystal stream whose path is clear 
Flows gently onward toward the weir ; 
And yet if aught its path impede, 
How soon it gathers might and speed ! 

So with the people's own good will. 
At normal times in calm possessed, 

*Twill with a torrent's fury fill. 
When needlessly repressed. 

— H. I. M. , the Empress Haruko . 



A 'Japanese Bouquet 55 



jUrUTUMN sky is like a woman's heart, if 
^— *• guessed aright, 

For both are known to change at least 
seven times in a night. 

TO A COQUETTE 
^y^HILE tender mists caress the lightsome air, 
^^^Were I some fair flower of the youngling Spring, 

Becoming then so sweetly-wished a thing, 
Would'st thou not gather me, O cruel Fair ? 

^=\HERE is no joy in life can be compared 
^^ with Sleepy 

And only fools are swift to wake, and work, 
and weep. 



56 Faith 



FAITH 

From the Italian 

OEAR little child with longing eyet 
So wistful and so wide 
Why do you gaze adown the street 
So far away ? 
*' Good sir, my mother went that way ; 
Two years ago she died ; 
And still I wait for her to come. 
This many a day." 

Dear little child, I tell you true. 

So sad, so sweet a thing, — 
That those who go to heav'n, on earth 
We no more see. 
" O sir, it cannot be ! again 

The flowers bloom in the spring. 
The birds return, and she I love 
Will come to me I " 



The Loving Heart 57 



THE LOVING HEART 

From the Italian of Matteo Maria Boiardo 
1434 , 1494 

XF one could rob the bird of song and wings, 
Or steal the tinted vesture of the flower. 
Deprive the grass of its most glorious dower. 
Stay Nature's voice that wakes the punctual springs ; 
If one could strip the horns the stag out-flings 
So proudly, keep from aught the sun*s warm shower. 
Then might he from the true heart take love*s power,- 
The sweet new love, its hope and cherishings. 

For hopeless were the heart from love away ; 
It were an arbour without boughs or leaves. 
Brook without water, fountain without spray. 
Loving, no more the soul in sadness grieves. 
But from all good that Nature holds to-day, 
The k>ving heart doth gather in full sheaves. 



58 Lovers Exultation 



LOVE'S EXULTATION 

From the Italian of Matteo Maria Boiardo 

X^^E who from Love hath farthest turned away, 
^ — JC Who hath refused the sweetest call of Fate, 
Ah, might he know the rapture of my state, 
He would return to own Love's potent sway ! 
He who hath all for which he most doth pray, — 
Power, wisdom, beauty, with the heart elate. 
Though all the broad earth's blessings on him wait. 
Love were the crown of fortune and not they. 

*Tis Love reflected in each thought and dream 

Fills me with happiness and pure desire ; 

I stand aloof from men, all woe above ; 

So not the wealth of India I esteem. 

Nor yet the Scythian monarch's vast empire, — 

These cannot equal one delight of Love ! 



RaphaeFs Portrait of Himself 59 



RAPHAEL'S PORTRAIT OF HIMSELP 

From the Italian of Giovanni Batista Felice Zappi 
1667- 1719 

I^nHIS is the glorious Raphael. Behold 
^^^ The light of genius flood his saintly face. 
Before whose eye the scenes of heav*n unrolled. 

Whose hand the wondrous universe did trace I 
One day a fancy seized him, waxing bold 

Till all the gleaming canvas grew apace 
With his own likeness ; earth should henceforth hold 

And link with deathless fame a deathless face ! 

Tlie work lay done. Came Death with bow of doom 
" Which is the real ? " he cried, " for lo, I smite I " 

Then straightway spake a voice amid the gloom ; 
" Take thou this feeble flesh ; but not thy might, 

O Death, can rob yon canvas of its bloom. 
Nor canst thou stay the soul's availing flight ! " 

( End of the Translations. ) 



60 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

February 27, 1807 - March 24, 1882 
^eace I ^eace I Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! 

OH, silver clear amid the busy throng, 
The avenues of years, is heard thy song — 

A heavenly ministry to earth-worn souls ! 
Still thou shalt sing till Time doth fail to be, 
Since love and youth know not mortality. 

Ay, ever while life's fitful ocean rolls, 
A restful hush, a whisper — " Peace be still " — 
Will calm its troubled waters at thy will 

Which gave the inspiration of thy life 
To lift humanity. Psalmist, and Psalm, 
Thy life bespeaks achievement won through calm. 

Thy theme forearms us in the glorious strife. 
February 27, 1907. 



Thi Primrose Way 61 

THE PRIMROSE WAY 

©ERRIES winsome, warm and shining, 
Flaunt in scarlet vesture bold, 
While the same fair stalk is twining 

Purple flowers with heart of gold. 
Child and maid they bloom together, 

" Bittersweet ! ** the children say, 
Frowningly, in fairest weather, 
" Let us take the primrose way." 

Know they dimly if aught lure them 

E*er to qusiff the stinging wine, 
Aftertime may not insure them 

Play amid the long sunshine. 
Hearts are children. There's a maiden 

Beckons, we would fain obey ; 
Nay, my heart, expectance-laden, 

Let us lake the primrose way ! 



62 The Primrose Way 

"Thou dost find me — thine Ideal, 

Thine forsooth both fruit and flower ! " 
Ah, fond youth, she mocks thee, real 

Pleasure hath not told the hour. 
Bring unto thy verse, thy painting, 

Fire Promethean, — but to stay 
Oft the fever, dearth and fainting, 

Let us take the primrose way ! 

L'ENVOI 
Still beyond, O Youth, believe me 

She thou lov'st pursues the day ; 
*Tis the nightshade would deceive thee. 

Let us take the primrose way ! 



Verlorene Liehe 63 



VERLORENE UEBE 

OJOY to wander free, 
Ere fades the moon of morning, 
O'er the still dreaming lea 

Where Time gives no harsh warning. 
Even the ponderous clock-tower 
Rings with a faery-throated hour, 
" All life is glad to be ! " 

I only know that life is fair, 

The flushed clouds hint of daytime, 
A soft caress is in the air, 

A buoyancy of Maytime. 
I know my loved one must be waking, 
Such melody the morn is making, — 

Earth - Angel, tell me where ? 



64 Pro Patria 



PRO PATRIA 

yiXOTHERS, rejoice, who clasp your sons to-night, 
>A^ The demon War is under endless ban ; 
StiD flies our flag for liberty and right, 

But man no more shall slay his brother man. 
From natural cause, in ages now begun. 
Our lesser grief — our " Absalom, my son ! ** 

Few lived in Needham in those early years, 
Yet great their courage to repel the foe ; 

Their hearts too generous to harbour fears, 

These valiant sons were Needham's pride, we know * 

And dear to each th* unfolding joys of life, 

Blest by the ties of children, home and wife. 

Perchance, as on they rode that April mom, 

With loved ones* tears yet warm upon each head. 

Their brave hearts yearned for dear ones left forlorn, 
** But there be other homes to guard," they said. 

Immortal Five ! one day at Lexington, 

One glorious day saw each his life-work done ! 



Pro Patria 65 

O Freedom, we would not forget thy cost ! 

For thee, from old, what precious blood was shed ! 
Upon thy roll-call not one name is lost. 

And they are living whom the stone counts dead. 
Oh, sweet to us the peace they dearly won — 
Needham*s heroic sons at Lexington I 



66 The Everlasting Arms 

THE EVERLASTING ARMS 

The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are 
the everlasting arms. — Moses. 

#T%HEN skies are dark and angry storms assail us, 
Vlx When hushed the soul and faint with fear's alarms* 
What joy to feel, though earthly comforts fail us, 
Beneath us are the Everlasting Arms ! 

O powerful Arms to strengthen and uphold us, 
When the world-weary flesh can bear no more ! 

O perfect Love like armour to enfold us, 
When the soul's enemy hath striven sore ! 

Thine outstretched hand can yield the surging billow 
The calm clear radiance of the heavenly way. 

Sorrow and pain may press the aching pillow. 
Thine arms, O God, are mightier than they. 

E'en Death, who brings to naught earth's proudest legions, 

Shall not prevail amid the hosts above ; 
The soul shall dwell afar in fadeless regions, 

Yea, in the Everlasting Arms of Love ! 



Song'Sparrows Heard in Indian Summer 67 

SONG-SPARROWS HEARD 
IN INDIAN SUMMER 

gSTIR in dusky elm-trees, 
Some brown and silver sparrows. 
An hour at mom, pour songs new-bom 
With gay and rippling ease. 

Bright, sudden thoughts are they which flit 
Between them, as exchange of wit. 
To the faint heart seeming to say : 
** Cheer, cheer — have a cheerful way ! " 
" Sweet, sweet — live, live while you may ! " 
And echoes them the breeze 
Through rows of friendly trees : 
" Sweet, sweet — live, live while you may ! '* 

When comes the bleak weather. 
Hand, mind, work together, 
But now is the time for roaming ! 

Oh, the wind hath a heartsome way, 
And blithe is the song-sparrows* lay, 
As back they fly in the gloaming : 
" Cheer, cheer — have a cheerful way ! '* 
*' Sweet, sweet — live, live while you may ! " 



68 ^^y Song 

MAY SONG 

O PASSING fair the breeze o' mom 
That kissed the clover hay, 
The lavVock sang his sweetest song, 

And Bonnie was the May. 
1 saw you phick the heather-bell 

As 1 came doon the lea. 
An* I — I looked at you, Jeanie, 
An* O you k)oked at me ! 

O sweet and shy your artless face, 

A smile lit up your e'e. 
The sunbeams showed your trembling grace, 

My heart was gone frae me ! 
And now above the hawthorn buds 

1 ken what heav*n must be. 
For I — 1 k)oked at you, Jezuiie, 

An* O you looked at me ! 



May Song 69 

You come nae more, my only love, 

The fields are bright wi' May, 
But I below and you above. 

And you in heav*n for aye. 
The lavVock sings, but not as once 

He madly sang for glee. 
And I — I look for you, Jeanie, 

O do you look for me ? 



70 A Rose- Leaf 

A ROSE-LEAF 

rinVUST is Abdul Radir Ghilan. Unto his soul 
^^\J be peace. 

Of whom 'twas writ, age upon age shall know 
his fame's increase. 

Nor is it strange, rehearsing not the wonders 

he hath done, 
That history best loves to name this 

unmiraculous one : 
This founder of the Kalandi, Mohammed's 

faithful son, 
Once went to dwell a season in lordly 

Babylon. 
Hearing of his approach, the Santones, a 

haughty band, 
Him deigned to meet at the gates, one 

bearing in his hand 
A dish brimful with water, that the wise 

man might divine, — 
" Our zeal and wisdom crowd these gates, what room 

have we for thine ? " 



A Rose-leaf 7I 

But Abdul, stately and grave, facing their 

sordid gaze, 
Lifted his hands toward heaven, then to their 

growing amaze, 
Bowed low and phicked a rose-leaf, which on 

the brim he laid ; 
(The dish could bear the rose-leaf, but aught 

heavier forbade.) 

Thou who art crowned with knowledge, to thee 

may the rose-leaf plead ; 
Place on thy flood of precept the timely, 

generous deed. 
What boots it if thy scrip o'erflow with 

sermon and with creed ? 
Seekst thou to stanch with eloquence the 

aching wounds that bleed ? 
Nay I silently and wondrously some healing 

leaf impart, 
Then will th' example of thy faith and love 

rejoice the heart. 
Haply no Babylon will rise, recording thee 

" the Wise," 
But thine what depth of heart-content unseen 

of mortal eyes ! 



72 ^ Rose-leaf 

Dust is Abdul Radir Ghilan. Peace to his 

soul for aye. 
Tliis is the stronghold of his fame, the years 

have passed away ! 



To George Sand 73 



TO GEORGE SAND 

(After Reading *' La Mare au Diable " and *' Valentine.") 
The sentiment of the ideal life, tohich is none other than man 's 
normal life as E)e shall one day kj^ow it. * ' 

eREAT Heart, consoled of nature and of beauty, 
Led by the simple life which is the true one 
Into that large sincerity of being ! 
Seeing in human joy the great unfolder, 
In faith the great revealer and uplifter. 
The peasant with his work thou didst ennoble, 
Viewing him as '* the priest in that vast temple 
The sky alone is vast enough to cover." 
The hardy ploughman, — 'tis not Death beside him, 
But Life's bright angel sows the waiting furrow. 
Perceptions of sweet poetry are with him, 
The elements of peace and trust inform him ; 
And he shall grow in grace and patient knowledge, 
Ev'n as the world grows, patient, slow, abiding. 



74 To George Sand 

Thine amplitude of thought, O gracious lady, 

Includest dear delights of rural scenery 

In memory oft and mention : snowdrop, primrose. 

Iris and columbine, lanes deep and winding. 

Bordered with traveler*s-joy and mint and cresses. 

Young green of meadows, clustering ash and alder, 

The tender plaint of brooks, the startled blackbirds. 

The solemn dog — "the sentry of the farmhouse,** 

The great white ox — *' inevitable dean of pastures,** 

All live amid thy pages' witchery. 

The maple avenues, the stately chestnuts. 

The hillsides flanked with heath and broom and holly. 

The Vallee-Noire, the faery ribbon, Indre, 

Some olden province, Bourbonnais or Berry, 

Some ancient town. La Chatre, perchance, or Boussac, 

Rejoiced in thee, fair chronicler, whose insight 

Flashed forth the story of some heart's attainment 

Through all the pathos of renewing nature ! 



To George Sand 75 



The beauty of thy thought is ever with us : 

" The sentiment of the ideal life, 

Which is none other than man's normal life 

As we shall one day know it." Heaven grant ! 

We who would find the good, the true, the beauteous. 

The Life Ideal, George Sand, we give thee homage f 



76 In the Library 

IN THE LIBRARY 

A Reminiscence 

^^nHE books of each old love-poel 

^^^ Are warm from the touch of your hand ; 

Your voice — the Psyche would know it, 

Would feel it and understand 
And thrill in her marble splendour, 
The harp sweet answer would render, 
Yea, its strings re-echo yet 
That sweetest of names, Fleurette, 
Fleurette. 

In your presence grief and aching 

Yielded to one pure peace ; 
In my young heart heav'n awaking 

Bade life's vain doubting cease ; 
Love made me a sheltered bower ; 
Is it strange I grew, a flower ? 
Ah, the glamour lingers yet. 
You say, " Fleurette des fleurettes, 
" Fleurette'" 



In the Library 77 

Within this nook where you studied. 

Favoured of wildwood flowers. 
The roses of Hellas budded, 

Bloomed the Homeric bowers ; 
But clearer far than rhythmic Greek 
The name wherewith your heart did speak, — 
In death I shall not forget. 
In dream or waking, ** Fleurette, 
" Fleurette.** 

Brave deeds of historic glory 

Inspired our souls with song ; 
The hills told their ancient story ; 

Stars held us late and long ; 
Eloquent night succeeding day 
Till from earth you had passed away. 
With roses blent heav*n's violet, 
Day fled ; you murmured, " Look, Fleurette, 
" Fleurette r* 



78 In the Library 

O Land of the poet's vision, 

What beauty you bespeak ! 
. What hold you in fields Elysian 

Fairer than dream of Greek ? 
Through the long vista of the years 
Only one voice my fancy hears ; 
Mine, when life's last sun is set, 
To hear and follov^, " Fleurette, 
"Fleurette." 



Similitude 79 



SIMILITUDE 

O POWER of Love, 
Inform the heart to know 
What thing is likest thee, in earth below 
Or heaven above ! 

Compare not our love to th' embracing snow» 
For if the springtide passion glow 

With too intense a gleam, 
It must depart — a dream within a dream. 

Compare not our love to the mantling grass,, 
Lest with consuming frost it pass, 

And beauty bear a pall. 
Alas, should fell mortality sway all ! 

Would'st liken love to that immensity — 
Vast, throbbing bosom of the sea» 

Which thou canst trust ? Not so I 
In storm how treacherous, how full of woe ! 

What then is likest k)ve ? 
Behold, the stars above ! — 
Serene they shine, whom no 

earth- vapour mars I 
Our love, be like the stars ! 



80 ' * Come in the Speaking Silence " 

" COME IN THE SPEAKING SILENCE OF 
A DREAM ! " 

DOW softly fall the clouds upon the hill ; 
The redwing's rippling cadence is more brief ; 
A pensive hush the waiting air doth fill. 
And silence falls about the flower and leaf. 
Loved One, if you were here I 

The birds of morning miss your blithesome tone, 
The wayside roses miss your lightsome touch. 
The columbine doth wear her grace alone, 
The sibilant, hid springs moan overmuch. 
Loved One, if you were here ; 

Would I not fold you fondly to my heart ? 
So oft in dream keep tryst these lives of ours ! 
My life would bloom again, and temperate Art 
Change into noble toil these fruitless hours, 
Loved One, if you were here ! 

For you are true of all the dreams I dream ; — 
The perfect melody that ever thrills 
To quiet life's wild struggle ; or a gleam 
Beyond the shambles, as of restful hills. 
Loved One, I feel you here I 



Ship- Building on the Kennebec 81 

SHIP-BUILDING ON THE KENNEBEC 

j^-\HE River sleeps — adream of conscious might, 

^^^ Prescient but powerless in his icy mail, 

Stilled by the weird, incantatory gale ; 

But lo ! the over-gloom unfolds in light, 

As, pausing in a bleak ship-yard to rest, 

I gaze aloft upon a stirring form. 

Firm on the stocks, ere long to brave the storm, — 

The building hammers ply her rugged breast. 

Here mingle prophecy and eloquence ! 
Akin to God*s is thus man's labour wrought. 
Each stroke a message of inspiring thought. 
Heart-throbs of revelation, swift, intense. 
Of perils mastered, grandeur, gains far-brought, 
Gifts to a waiting land, the glad word thence. 



82 High Tide 

HIGH TIDE 

y^^HE tide is up ! The waiting soil 
^^^ Drmks madly of the cooling flood ; 
Light-hearted landsmen at their toil 

Feel the sea-wine renew their blood. 
This is the breeze that from far seas 

Brings home the sailor to his bride. 
The bounding waves in jocund ease 

Half up the hoary headland stride ; 
With dulcet rills the breaker fills 

The crannies of the foaming rock. 
O heartsome tide, life's nameless ills 

*Tis well thou canst disown and mock I 

The tide is up ! Drink deep, my heart, 

For now doth bloom thy perfect bliss ! 
Where reigns, in nature or in art, 

The hour that e'er shall rival this ? 
The tide that flows, the wind that blows, — 

Twin-born are they of hope and love. 
Say not that dark yon azure grows. 

That storms destroy the joy thereof. 
O LOVE that lies *neath love-bright eyes, 

Come thou to glorify my ways. 
And deathless beauty shall surprise 

The desert places in my days I 



In the Walti 83 

IN THE WALTZ 

(A Sportsman Muses) 

HAIREST of moments, but too few 
When I may hold thee to this heart — 
This heart so true. 
Ah, sweetheart, by what cruel art 
Tliou swearest never to be mine, 
And yet my arms may round thee twine 
In the sweet thralldom of the waltz ! 
Such be the gravest of thy faults — 
Such contradiction. Did I say 
Tis cruel art ? Not so, dear one. 

The season when the great-heart sun 
Doth haste behind the mountains gray, 
The season when begin to play 
The violins in rich accord, 
I cross the length of dewy sward, 
A tired golfer, thus to leave 
The sunset and the smile of eve, 
To pause before the beck'ning door 
And list the fire-logs' mellow roar. 



84 In the Walti 

I seat me at the sumptuous board. 
But sooth, the hunger that I hoard 
Still heaps about my eager heart. 
I seek my baccalaurean room, 
Where soon, from palpitating gloom, 
Decked in the panoply of art, 
Descend I to the charmed dance — 
A knight of tristful countenance. 

Amid the answering horn and flute, 
A siren enters. I am mute. 
The sunset hues vie in her dress 
Beneath a sheen of airy lace, 
Whence she doth lift a flowersome face 
To summon me from loneliness. 



In the Wdlti 85 

Oh, glad my fate ! I thought to leave 
The sunset and the smile of Eve, 
Yet both are here. The violin 
Doth rise and fall, to lose or w^in. 
So be it, maid of witching glances, 
To hold thee in a mad caress 
Amid Moszkovy^ski's *' Spanish Dances," 
A dozen moments, more or less, 
To feel thy fervent heart confessed. 
In bird-like flutter near my breast. 
Until it end — the poem, Motion, 
As ebbs the rhythmic tide of ocean. 

O radiant daughter of the dance, 
To-morrow thou'lt forget, not I ! 
If love blest Music might enhance. 
E'en when her breathed raptures die, 
Could Music, blithest pain, endure. 
Two hearts, the fondest *neath the sun 
( One heart is sure ) 
Might through the long years beat as one ! 

Mount Pleasant House, N. H. , 
October. 1897. 



56 A Bluebird in Belmont 

A BLUEBIRD IN BELMONT 

^ ■ %OODS of Belmont, long adrowse, 
\\J Rouse you, harb'ring things of sleep ! 
I will tell you what befell you, 

Though so well you know : 
Long I waited, dreams had freighted — 
Only dreams — the restless boughs, 
And that gladness wont to leap 
In the brook was silence deep. 

Then spake I a-low 
To the spirit of the forest : 
** I can find nor joy nor rest. 
If the Goddess of the Spring 
Still delay me. Pray thee, bring 
But a message or a token 
That her pledge is yet unbroken 
To the weary world and me." 

Then this kindly, queenly dryad, 
Eyes clear-shining as a Pleiad, 
Thus declared to me : 
" What ! so ill hath Winter fed thee ? 
Mortal, come this way to-morrow. 
Come, and Nature's hope bestead thee. 
What she hath be quick to borrow." 



A Bluebird in Belmont 87 

Lone she left me on this hill ; 
But I came another morn 
With a sweet expectant thrill — 
Ne'er had felt I such another 
Since the morn that I was born, 
Or had Conscience for my mother. 

Now from treetops lost in green, 
Beams a flash of light that sings — 
Heaven's ether on its wings, 
Blithest vision ever seen, 
The survivor and reviver 
Of a race of daring Springs ! 
Then a presence speaks me fair. 
It is she of floating hair ; 
Almost proud her modest mien, 
Me she welcomes : ** Soul, 'tis here. 
Tuneful spirit of the Spring I — 
After thy long foDowing, 
Know at last the bluebird's cheer I " 



88 A Bluebird in Belmont 

" Hark to the paean, 

Wake and abound ! 
Woe is lethean, 
Bliss, empyrean ; 
Flower-faces brighten, 
Melodies heighten, 

All, all around. 
Ye who like dying, 
Frowning and sighing. 

Stay underground ! 
Ye who love living, 
Song and joy-giving. 

Wake and abound ! '* 



Robert Beverly Hale 89 



ROBERT BEVERLY HALE 
1869-1895 

SOUTH to Immortal Youth! So hath he fled, 
In life's unclouded morning borne away. 
Scarcely a space had we of Death to pray : 
Bereave us not. Flowers he hath garlanded 
Where we saw dreariness ; and he hath led 
The clear-voiced bards who glad the waking day. 
O Death, stay thy dread hand till evening gray ! 
Not even noon hath languished that firm tread. 

Entreat thee. Death, canst spare not such as he ? 

The joy of life is his, the budding bays I 

The lofty cheer, the high-souled charity, 

Unconsciously inform his daily ways. 

Then almost lovingly Death said to me, 

" Like him, fill thou the measure of thy days." 



90 To a Marechal Niel Rose 



TO A MARECHAL NIEL ROSE 

eLUSIVE fragrance ! Who did once aspire 
To find for thee a name ? 
Thou feedest fancy with unfailing fire — 
Pervasive fleune. 

Thy constant glow doth warm the soul to life, 

Long lain in winter's chain ; 
Canst thou interpret love — the hidden strife, 

Delicious pain ? 

To some rare triumph wouldst thou marshal us — 

Some deed of glory done, 
Outlasting death in legend marvelous, 

Thou dauntless one ? 

We know not. But like him whose name thou hast. 

Thou canst not brook defeat : 
In our heart's Solferino win at last 

Victory complete ! 



Mine 91 



MINE 

#|mINE, all mine, the wondrous, exquisite longing, 
>JL^ Mine the wild wild hopes that perforce come 
thronging 
Into my heart and brain whenever I think of you ! 
Attendant on your coming and your going, 
Life's full uplifting harmonies are flowing ; 

O Heaven, yet spare to my steadfast heart a 
dream so true ! 

E'en if I never hear you say you love me, 
Here is reflected heaven, around, above me. 

Wherein I dwell, beyond love's dearth, its mad 
endeavor. 
So would I sometimes know your tender nearness, 
Would feel your sweet collectedness, your dearness, 
Your heart, which must abide, my world, my 
home for ever ! 



92 On Hear J fig " The Erl King " 

ON HEARING "THE ERL KING" PLAYED 
BY PADEREWSKI 

(Goethe's Words, Schubert's Music, Transcribed by Liszt) 

SAST ride the father and his child, 
Fast fall the darkness and the rain. 
Why is the child so wan and wild ? 
Fast in the shadow at his side 
Rolls a muffled, menacing tide — 
It is the Erl King and his train. 

Hush ! now borne on the dying breeze. 
Straight to the dreaming heart and pure. 

Naiad music from billowy seas, 

Charmed kneU of a golden bell 

Calm-subduing the tempest-hell — 
'T is the soul-music must endure. 



On Hearing " The Erl King " 93 

Chosen one, fear not, but have joy ! 

All must the Erl King's will obey ; 
We, to-night, are thy kin, sweet boy, 
Heirs of the oft discordant world. 
Little recking the bliss unfurled 

Under Song's deep and sovran sway. 

We too shall know an infinite joy, 

Faith, our consoler, ever nigh, 
We too in shielding arms, blest boy. 
Why should we fear the Erl King, Death ? 
Ah, be ours so divine a breath 

When in the arms of Love we die ! 



94 Ex Animo Meo 



EX ANIMO MEO 

HRIENDS, I may not be sure 
One violet, peerless, pure, 
Will glad the dreary place 
Wherein my dust shall sleep: 

But if some heart may keep 
One thought's surviving grace 
This living hand did trace, 
Which made abiding cheer 
Of beauty near and here. 
Soft I shall smile on that returnless main, 
Knowing my days ashore were not in vain. 



NOTES 

More than half these poems have appeared in periodicals 
to whose editors I am sincerely grateful for permission to 
reprint. 

Japanese words: 

M UGEN — In dream and reality. 

Kakemono — (both singular and plural) 
A hanging ornament, usually a picture, a scroll con- 
taining poetic sentiments, or a branch of blossoms. 

Midarezaki — Spontaneous bloom — a word instinct 
with the life and joy of spring. 

The five sonnets by Jose-Maria de Heredia, of the French 
Academy, are translated from "Les Trophees" and included 
by arrangement with the publisher, Alphonse Lemerre, Pans. 
The originals of the two sonnets by Matteo Maria Boiardo 
are from " Sonetti e Canzoni," first published at Reggio, 
1499. 

Page 61 : The brilliant bittersweet, or woody nightshade 
(solanum dulcamara), enlivens the roadsides of Cape Ann. 
It has the anomaly of purple flower and red berry co-existent. 
Its harmless meadow neighbor, yellow and fragrant, is called 
the "primrose." 

Page 64 : Seven men of Needham, Massachusetts, fell at 
the battle of Lexington, but "through Divine Goodness two 
survived, albeit severely wounded." , ,oc-. u u 

A granite monolith in the churchyard, erected 1851 by tne 
ladies of Needham, bears this inscription: 
In Memory of 
John Bacon Elisha Mills 

Amos Mills Jonathan Parker 
M. Chamberlain 
Who Fell at Lexington April 19, 1775. 
For Liberty They Died 



CONTENTS 

Frontispiece 

From a Photograph by the Philotechnic Guild, Providence 
Kakemono 
With Four Drawings by KathleenEstelleGilbert, Bridgeport 

Queen Louise of Prussia - 11 

To Live is To Hope 12 

Midarezaki _-.--. ---14 

The Ascent of Mount Lafayette - 15 

Where the Kennebunk Meets the Sea 17 

Adagio e Piano ---- -- 18 

To Avis, with Apple Blossoms 20 

The Bond - - - - 22 

The Bed-Time Story - 23 

Thanksgiving ------------- 25 

Confessions --------- 26 

Christmas 27 

The Hermit Thrush 29 

The Music of the Hermit Thrush - 30 

Withholden . - . 32 

Remembering N. P. Willis' Poems 34 

*'E'en in Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires" - - - 35 

A Song to Charon 37 

To Maude Adams as "Lady Babbie" 38 

Our Home 39 

To John Banister Tabb 41 

On an Immortal Song 42 

Translations 

After Petrarch 47 

The Flute 48 

The Siesta 49 

The Conch 50 

On the Liure des Amours of Pierre de Ronsard - - 51 



CONTENTS 

A Japanese Bouquet ---------- 52 

Faith -------- 56 

The Loving Heart 57 

Love's Exultation - 58 

Raphael's Portrait of Himself 59 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 60 

The Primrose Way 61 

Verlorene Liebe -------------63 

Pro Patria 64 

The Everlasting Arms 66 

Song-Sparrows Heard in Indian Summer - - - - 67 

May Song 68 

A Rose-Leaf - - - - 70 

To George Sand 73 

In the Library 76 

Similitude 79 

"Come in the Speaking Silence of a Dream" - - - 80 

Ship-Building on the Kennebec 81 

High Tide 82 

In the Waltz 83 

A Bluebird in Belmont -- 86 

Robert Beverly Hale 89 

To a Mare'chal Niel Rose 90 

Mine ^1 

On Hearing "The Erl King" Played by Paderewski - 92 

Ex Animo Meo 9"* 

Notes 
Contents 



/.UG 15 1908 



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